I’ve been thinking about what it might be like to quit my job and publish a book. To forget about paychecks and live within my own words, to follow the advice I give my friends. I go to the mountains in August, and I’m worried it will go by too quick. I did not go to work today. I wish I could waste away my life in old coffee shops with wood floors and brick walls. I wish I knew how to relax, to recharge and not burn myself out. I’m scared I’m doing this wrong, that there is supposed to be more to my life than what I see, but it’s just that, I can’t see it. I wish for another tattoo, to cover the scars on my legs with planets and constellations. To create beauty from chaos.
This paragraph was written on June 24th of this year. It all holds true about a month later.
I think part of the reason it’s been so hard for me to write here is because all of my thoughts are so jumbled up and it either doesn’t come out, or it’s all these random sentences that don’t really belong together. So I’ll leave you with this little window into my psyche, and hope that’s enough.
Sending good vibes your way.
Love,
Stan
“…we played in broken streets
Every sidewalk held a mystery
We held the keys
When it started raining, we ran like trains till we
Found the bus stop that I held you underneath
Till you fell asleep…”
From “Streetlights” by Motel Radio
Long Drives in the Dark 